


Fractured but Unbroken

by readercat



Category: Split (2016)
Genre: Mental Coercion, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 02:11:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9797891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/readercat/pseuds/readercat
Summary: Kevin Wendell Crumb isn't as weak as everyone thinks.  Sometimes you just have to dig deep to find your strength.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I swore I wouldn't do anymore fics until I finished the multitude of WiPs I have backed up, but I love this fucking movie so much that I just couldn't help myself.

 

 

  
          _Getting stronger every day, but mustn’t let the others know. You’re good at pretending, though. You always have been. Good at flying under the radar, staying out of sight, making yourself invisible. You can do this. Just have to bide your time, Kevin. If there’s one thing you’ve learned from The Horde, it’s that if you can think it, you can be it._

          _And I can be free. I know I can._

 

  
          At first, Kevin had been okay with The Others forcing him to go back to sleep.  After all, ‘waking up’ to find nearly three years of his life missing, his doctor laying dead at his feet, a traumatized teenage girl staring at him like he was a monster, and a taste in his mouth that he’s disturbingly certain was not steak tartar...well, he’d challenge _anyone_ to not want to escape from that.  It was almost too much too bear. _Almost._  Though if he had learned about those two other girls (the ones that the one called The Beast, had killed...and...and _eaten_ ), before he’d had a chance to process everything else, his fractured mind would have shattered and he... _Kevin_...would have been lost forever.

          He knew that he’d told the girl to kill him--–he remembered that much, but then the Others...well, obviously they stopped her somehow.  He hopes they didn’t hurt her, that she’s okay—or, if not, that at least didn’t have to suffer much. She’d looked so scared, so helpless, so young and _lost_. He recognized the look because he’d been seeing it in the mirror his whole life.  Yet, in spite of the horror evident on her pale, pale face, he’d seen something those lost, terrified eyes that said, _“I understand”_.  So she must be dead.  She’d have to be.  She’d understood his pain, and if she’d been able, would have given him the release from life that he longed for but had been unable to give himself.

Not that he hadn’t tried.  And it turned out to be a failure just like everything else in his life.

 

  
_September 18, 2014._   He remembers that day so clearly, because for the first time in his life was unafraid.  No more worrying, no more waffling, no more guilt, no more fear.  No need of the Others.  He felt strong and confident all on his own, because he knew without a doubt exactly what he wanted and what he was going to do.

          He had purchased the shotgun the week before and hidden it almost in plain site.  How the Others hadn’t known about it, how he had managed to keep the knowledge from them, he’ll probably never know.  He supposes that he owes a thanks to a God he hadn’t believed existed.  The shells had been almost comically easy to come by since all of the security guards at the zoo had them.  He’d simply taken advantage of a bit of unexpected time in the light (he tips his imaginary hat to his imaginary God), went down to the locker room, waited until it was empty, then grabbed a box of shells out of an unsecured locker and hid them in his own.

          When the thought of suicide first occurred to him as more than just a pipe dream, he’d considered stealing some of the euthanasia drugs the zoo kept on hand for putting down sick and injured animals.  He figured they would do the deed quickly and without any fuss.  He’d flirted with the idea of perhaps replacing Jade’s insulin with some Ketamine, Phenobarbital, or maybe Propophol—that way the Others wouldn’t know until it was too late.  But he was afraid to take a chance on someone finding him and bringing him back—and that he’d end up brain-damaged or something.  He nearly had a panic attack, imagining being a vegetable and put in a home somewhere... _helpless and at the mercy of someone like Mother_.  No, he’d decided that a shotgun to the head was just the ticket.   _Take out the brain so that there was no hope of survival._   Now that he’d made the decision, he was happier than he’d ever been in his life.

         

          He only made two mistakes.         

          His first mistake was the video diary that he’d made for Dr. Fletcher.  But after all of her help, he’d felt he owed it to her to explain why he had to do this—end his life—and to let her know that it wasn’t her fault (though now he’s starting to wonder if maybe he hadn’t maybe been wrong about her).  He was sorry for ruining her research, but she had other patients to focus on, surely.

          His second mistake was his last meal.  He _never_ got to eat what, or how much, _he_ wanted:  Barry always made him watch his weight and always wanted to eat at some _fru-fru_ bistro; Jade bitched if he ate anything with sugar, so none of the ice cream he loved; Dennis wouldn’t eat out _at all_ because nothing was _ever_ clean enough; _Patricia..._ Patricia was just a miserable old bitch, and Kevin would bet his last dollar that old hag secretly loves junk food but refused to eat it, just for the satisfaction of showing him who’s boss; Hedwig—that little bastard must have a hotdog fetish or something. _If I never see another hotdog in my life..._ ; and the rest of the Others _always_ bow down to what Barry, Jade, or the Horde want.  
          So Kevin decided that if was going to do the deed, he deserved to go out in style, with a meal fit for a king.  He was going to go out and have pizza (Chicago-style, large—no, _extra_ -large—with extra cheese and all the meats: _Fuck you, Barry, and your floppy, tasteless, New York-style vegan shit! What the fuck is_ ‘vegan cheez’ _anyway?!_ ), followed by a big milkshake, and maybe a steak or a big, juicy burger if he could choke it down. _And why not?_ It’s not like he’s gonna have to worry about heartburn later!  
          All throughout the day, he could feel the Others pressing against his mind, trying to steal his light, getting desperate to figure out what was going on with him.  But for the first time, he had the strength to keep the light for himself. _I don’t need you today–leave me alone._   And he _didn’t_ need them.  He had an awesome day all by himself.  He spent the day walking all over Philly, looking at all the tourist sites and watching the pretty women ( _That’s right!_   Women, _Dennis you sick fuck–_ **not girls** — _women_!) and some of whom even smiled at him. He did all the things he would normally be too afraid to do by himself, and, ironically, just enjoying being alive.  The pizza and milkshake were just as good as he’d imagined, though he may overdone it (but only a little). He had to get the burger to go—he’d just have to eat it on the bus ride home.  
         

          And that’s where it all went wrong.  He hadn’t banked on how sleepy all that food would make him.  As near as he can figure, he stepped onto the bus and dozed off, giving the Others a chance to steal his light.  The next thing he knows, people are dead and hurt and he’s missing nearly three years of his life. That pleasantly-full stomach and all those carbs he’d eaten, combined with the relatively gentle swaying of the bus had accomplished what all of the Others working together hadn’t.  
          At first, they’d probably just wanted to find out what was up with Kevin, why he was acting so out of character, and he was too sleepy to stop them, but at least he’d also been too out of it to help.  One of them, probably Barry, had taken over and gotten him home.  And while Kevin was ‘sleeping’, one of them (again, probably Barry) had gone though Kevin’s things and came across the video diary Kevin had made for the doctor:  the suicide note. At least they hadn’t found out about the shotgun, not that it really mattered in the end.  Or maybe it did matter.  

 

_I can keep things from them._   


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kevin, who is a little less suicidal, looks and listens...and ruminates about what he sees when he looks at that circle of chairs. 
> 
> We also get a small POV from Barry, who has a stow-away.

          Kevin lays on his cot and pretends to ‘sleep’, but really he watches the Others sit primly in their chairs.   Watches and listens.

          Kevin watches because, even after all these years, it has never ceased to amaze him that when people see and interact with the Others, they do not see what he sees sitting in that circle of chairs right now—that people look at the Others and see _him_.  They don’t see Jade’s long legs, ebony skin, and nicotine-stained fingernails.  They don’t see Orwell’s wild gray hair and eyebrows, the spectacles perched on his nose, or the old-man paunch hidden by his beloved-but-ragged cardigan.  They don’t see Patricia’s one indulgence (well, besides being a bitch, that is):  her long, thick, silvery hair, which she brushes it shines, before pulling it back into its familiar severe bun (Kevin kind of wishes that he had a mirror so he could see what _he_ looked like now).

 

          Oh, _intellectually_ he knows the truth, but it’s hard sometimes for him to disregard what he _sees_ , even if it’s only in his own mind, and it’s difficult to believe that the rest of the world can’t what he sees, too.  Sometimes, he wishes that they were real, the Others.  Well, _some_ of them anyway.  Under other circumstance, he feels like he could truly have been friends with a few of them.  Mostly, though, he just wishes that they had that their own lives.  Then _they_ wouldn’t be _him_ and he wouldn’t feel so guilty for wanting them to just go away.   _I’m sorry, but I don’t really need you anymore._

          Kevin worries, too, because he used to look at that circle of chairs and see 23 distinct individuals.  Now with the arrival of The Beast, things are starting to get fuzzy.  Patricia, Dennis, and Hedwig aren’t as distinct to him as they used to be—it’s like they’re... _mind-melding_ or something, integrating, but in a bad, bad way.

 

          And he listens, too.

          Listens to the Others talk amongst themselves.  Sometimes just casual conversation, but mostly, they’re talking about what’s happening.  Like how and why Barry lost control of the light and what the arrival of this Beast might mean for the rest of them.  Kevin is getting a little pissed that they don’t seem too terribly concerned about _him_ , though.  In fact, he actually heard Barry tell them to quiet down so they wouldn’t wake him!  He’d like to tell them all to fuck off, but he can’t afford to make any mistakes—not again—so he has to play it very carefully.

          So what he really needs to listen to is The Horde.  Finding out what’s up with them is the key to having his life back.   _Hell, who is he kidding?_   He’s never really gotten a chance to _live_.  What he had planned to be the last day of his life was the happiest he’s ever been since before his father went away. Bringing down The Horde (because in his heart, he knows that’s what has to happen) is the key to _getting_ a life and getting his freedom, and...

          _—Well, well._   Seems while he was busy wool-gathering, an unexpected opportunity has cropped up... _Barry has the light_.

          Now Kevin just has to figure out how to ride along and share the light with Barry without anyone realizing that he’s gone. The Others may not give him much thought, but they _will_ take notice if they look over at his cot and see that he’s missing.   Well, there’s no time like the present to test out his new-found confidence and see what he’s capable of doing.   Like using his mind to put pillows under the blanket so it looks like someone’s still laying on the cot.

          _Holy Shit!  It worked!_

 

 

          Barry groans and sighs in pleasure as he stretches his muscles, getting the kinks out.  The Horde are off busy, plotting something or other, so he has unexpectedly found himself in possession of the light tonight.   _Thank God!_  He’s been cooped up for _way_ too long and he needs to get out and eat a decent meal ( _‘...like a burger’_ , Kevin prompts from the shadows of his mind) and see his friends.  They’re probably wondering where he’s disappeared to...like they’d believe him if he told!

          He wonders who’s going to be at the club tonight, after all it is the middle of the week—not his usual night, but the way that little shit, Hedwig, has been stealing the light from him, Barry never knows when he’s gonna have it anymore, so he’s not taking any chances.

          Barry feels somewhat guilty, because he knows that he should be using this opportunity to go and spy on The Horde, but he’s just _so_ desperate to get out on the town and see his friends that he manages to ignore the pervading sense of guilt.

          Checking himself out in the mirror ( _‘Hmmm...hair needs a trim’_ , he mutters, running a hand through his floppy blonde hair), he determines that he looks as good as he’s going to get on such short notice, so he winds his favorite scarf around his neck, grabs his hat and his keys, and heads out the door.

         

_'Look out night life, here I come! But first, damn, I am just dying for a big, juicy burger.'_

 

          From his hiding place in the shadows, Kevin grins and does a fist-pump. _YES!_


End file.
